


Mockingjay Inn

by burkygirl



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bed & Breakfast, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bed & Breakfast, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Minor Character Death, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burkygirl/pseuds/burkygirl
Summary: Katniss and Peeta are both frequent pop-in guests at an out-of-the-way B&B. One weekend, it is surprisingly booked up and the manager asks if they can share a suite in an effort to be less of an inconvenience for such loyal customers and since they sort of know each other. An Everlark Fic Exchange Prompt submitted by @roseymama





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to xerxia and peetabreadgirl for the always helpful beta work. You girls are the bestest!

The silver Civic slipped up the paved drive that sloped through the woods before bursting into the clearing where a white, two-storey colonial waited serenely, like a queen holding court. 

The driveway twisted around a shade garden tucked into a copse of trees and Katniss veered into the parking area, pushing the grief that threatened to overwhelm her away long enough to shift the car into neutral, set the parking brake and turn the key. Closing her eyes, she let her head fall against the headrest and drew in a breath. Her belly filled with air and then she expelled it slowly, imagining the stresses of her day floating away. She did it again.  And again, drawing the negative energy along her limbs and visualizing it drifting away on the breath. Some days it helped. 

Today was not one of those days, not after the news Prim had delivered this afternoon.

Her eyelids fluttered open and the square corners of the heritage home came back into view; its perfect symmetry, its black shutters and red front door bidding her welcome. The sheltering walls of the Mockingjay Inn had become a second home to her these last months. She loved this old house, tucked away in the woods, invisible from the main road and advertised only by word of mouth. Her old school friend, Madge, had painstakingly renovated it after inheriting it from her grandmother a few years ago. It was a labour of love for Madge, who seemed to have planted her spring flowers since Katniss was here last week. She spotted the happy faces of pansies peeking out from around the hostas that lined the beds next to the house and red and white petunias spilled from the urns on the front steps. 

When she stepped from the car, the heady rush of the crisp breeze set her heart racing and teased at the hem of her skirt. A fresh gust whipped the wayward wisps of raven hair that always escaped the confines of her braid. She breathed deeply again, filling her body with the brisk, clean air and whisking away the stench of slow decay and antiseptic attempting to permeate her bones. This time, her exhale carried a piece of her burden away. 

Her sorrow eased, however briefly, Katniss popped open the trunk of her car and grabbed her black overnight bag. She’d go inside, get checked in, and then curl up in front of the Inn’s fireplace with a glass of wine. If she was lucky, Peeta would be there already and they could chat. It was a real stroke of luck that his business seemed to bring him to Panem, New York every week since she’d first met him here at the Inn. There were few things she enjoyed more than sitting beside Peeta as he sketched whatever came to mind and they talked about the days that had passed since they last saw each other. She loved putting aside the drama of her own life to listen to stories about the eccentric customers who frequented his gallery.

Her feet all but flew up the steps and she breezed through the door only to find Madge and Peeta engaged in a serious conversation near the antique dresser that Madge had placed in the foyer and from which she liked to conduct her business. 

Peeta’s hand was fisted in the golden curls at the back of his head. He pulled his hair and then released it to scratch at the back of his neck. In the dresser’s mirror, Katniss could see that his face was twisted in consternation while Madge tried, a little desperately, to convince him of something. 

Madge’s offered Katniss a bright smile as the door closed behind her. “Hello, Katniss. Welcome back!”

Peeta nodded in her direction, the expression in his usually bright blue eyes still troubled. “Katniss.”

“What’s going on?” Katniss dropped her bag on the Oriental rug arranged under the chandelier in the middle of the room.

Peeta grimaced and dropped his hand to the granite top of the dresser. “You’re going to love this one, Katniss.”

Madge shushed him. “Katniss, the Inn has just been given a remarkable opportunity. A team from a Capitol TV travel show is coming to do a story on the area and they want to feature the Mockingjay Inn as Panem’s best kept secret.”

Katniss’s chest surged with pride for her friend. “Well, it is,” she said firmly. “That’s wonderful, Madge! Such great exposure for you!”

Madge beamed, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “It is. I’m so thrilled. I just knew you’d understand.”

Peeta scoffed. “No, she doesn’t Madge. You haven’t told her when they’re arriving.”

A leery tingle of suspicion crept up Katniss’s spine. “When, Madge?”

“Tonight,” her friend enthused. “So, if you and Peeta would just agree, then everything will be just perfect.”

“Madge…” Peeta warned.

Madge caught her perfect pink bottom lip between her teeth. “Well, you see, Katniss,” she cleared her throat. “They will be staying tonight, to get the full experience. They require four rooms, and the Inn has-”

“Five,” Peeta interrupted impatiently. “The Inn has five rooms. Madge wants us to share a room.”

“No,” Madge corrected hastily. “The Inn has six bedrooms. The master suite has two bedrooms. It’s usually booked by families, but you and Peeta are such good friends, Katniss, that I’m sure it would work. I’ll cut your rate in half for tonight, if you’ll agree.”

Katniss had to admit that a cut on her room was rather appealing. Travelling up to Panem from the city each weekend was costing her a fortune. She could stay elsewhere, but the lonely, cookie-cutter rooms of the hotels in the downtown held no appeal at all. She could stay at her sister Prim’s house but that felt like a prison sentence, especially after Prim’s revelation today. The quiet of the Inn and her time with Peeta have been her oasis in the middle of this ordeal. She wasn’t sure she would get through the night if she wasn’t able to put her troubles aside for a little while and enjoy his company. Plus, she knew she would be safe with him in the suite.

“Okay,” she decided. “I’ll allow it.” 

She almost laughed at their reactions. Madge’s face was the picture of relief. Peeta’s was filled with shock.

“Really?” they said in unison. 

She shrugged. “Who am I to turn down a cheap night in a four-star bed and breakfast?” 

“Peeta?” asked Madge. Katniss watched him clear his throat and nod.

“If Katniss is comfortable with it, then I’ll be fine,” he softly replied.

Madge was still clapping her hands in glee when Katniss turned to pick up her suitcase and started for the mahogany staircase. “Alright Madge, show us tonight’s accommodations.”

* * *

 

The room was not what she expected. 

As they’d travelled up the broad steps in the heart of the house, Madge had nattered on about her   _ master suite _ , then she’d opened the door to the room and whisked off to prepare the other rooms for her Capitol TV guests. 

A queen-sized four-poster bed dressed in a russet orange duvet graced the main room of the suite and was heaped with a mound of plush and inviting pillows. In the corner, a couple of rich leather armchairs with embroidered footstools flanked a gas fireplace. Two doors stood firmly closed on each side of the bed. Behind one door was a tiny private bathroom with a marble stand up shower. Behind the other was tucked a double bed and a small nightstand. Madge had obviously renovated a walk-in closet and a dressing room to construct the suite. It was perfect for a family with young children. 

Not so perfect for a couple of friends, Katniss thought, and scowled. “We’ve been bamboozled.”

Beside her, Peeta huffed in frustration. “I’m not sure how to be the gentleman here,” he frowned. “If I take the smaller bed, I compromise your privacy. If I take the bigger bed, I’ve consigned you to the smaller room.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “We could get rooms in town?”

She turned to observe Peeta watching her warily. His light blue button-down was hanging over a pair of well-worn jeans, its sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. His leather overnight bag still hung from his shoulder. Was he expecting her to have a fit over their accommodations? Not likely. It was still better than her alternatives. At least he wasn’t suggesting they split up. She was a little afraid to be alone with her thoughts. They’d pull her under and she’d never find her way out. Dropping her bag on the butler’s bench poised at the foot of the bed, Katniss shook her head. “We’re here now. We'll just have to make the best of it. We can flip a coin for the bed later.” She lowered herself to the bench. “How was your week?”

The corner of his mouth twitched and he closed the space between them, dropping his bag on the hardwood floor as he perched on the edge of the bed. “Not bad. Ms. Trinket finally bought that piece she’s been eying.”

“That was the modern one with all the bright colours, right?”

Peeta nodded. Effie Trinket, a retired Broadway actress who Katniss figured had more money than brains, was one of Peeta’s customers. “That’s the one. Then I sold her a sculpture of a man made out of recycled cans. His legs once held creamed corn, I swear.” 

Katniss couldn’t help it, she laughed. “She  _ lurves _ you, Peeta. She’d take anything you’re selling. You’ll be husband number 6, I just know it. “

Peeta shuddered. “I'm pretty sure she made more money collecting on divorce settlements than she ever made on the stage. Her latest husband, Mitch, I think his name is, answered the door when I made the delivery this week. He was as drunk as a skunk.”

Katniss’s eyes rounded. “You're doing the deliveries now?”

“Only if the client pays for a professional installation. Which Effie always does.”

She shook her head in resignation. “Effie, huh? Well, you’ll have to be sure to give me her address before you leave. If you don't show up here next Saturday, I’ll send the police to check her basement. She’ll have you tied to a post, trying to make you her love slave.”

Peeta gagged and threw himself back against the bed, clapping his hand over his face “You're going to give me nightmares.” 

Katniss was still laughing when he raised his hand and turned his head to look at her; his face so close to hers that she could count each one of his long, golden eyelashes. 

“Don’t worry, Katniss. I’ll be here next week. Wild horses couldn't keep me away," he whispered, brushing her cheek with the pad of his thumb. 

Katniss wondered if they'd ever been this close before. She’d never noticed the flecks of grey in the blue pools of his eyes or the tiny freckles that sprayed across his nose. His lips were smooth and softly parted. 

A swift rap on the door interrupted her train of thought. “I opened you guys a bottle of merlot in the drawing room,” Madge called out from the other side before carrying on down the hall.

Peeta’s hands slapped against his knees as he sat up. “A drink before dinner sounds great." He stood, and offered his hand to Katniss. “Shall we?”

She took it and Peeta’s long fingers wrapped securely around hers as she followed him to the door. She missed their steadiness when he let go to allow her passage over the threshold ahead of him, but then they ghosted along the small of her back as he guided her through. The warmth of his touch lingered all the way down the stairs and into the drawing room. 

After Peeta poured them each a glass of wine, they settled into their usual spots on the couch in front of the fireplace and Peeta began a story about his client, Mr. Craine, his strange beard and his taste for phallic imagery in modern art.

“Honestly, Katniss, I showed him a cubist portrait the other day. I told him the subject’s nose, which was located where the ear should be, appeared to have been subtly but deliberately widened at the base, and he bought it on the spot.”

Katniss looked pensive. “I wonder if you could sell him a still life bowl of fruit.”

“If it’s got bananas in it, consider it sold.” 

They were still snickering when they heard the entrance door burst open and the house was filled with chatter. 

“Lovely, just lovely,” boomed a pompous voice. “It’s so perfectly quaint and cozy. What do you want to bet her grandmother’s needlepoint hangs over the fireplace?”

A high-pitched female voice tittered and Katniss peered up at the mantle. She thought the intricate needlepoint was probably done by Madge’s great grandmother, but wasn’t sure what was so hilarious about valuing where you came from. 

Another female voice, this one lower and more soothing murmured to the group. 

“I don't know, Cressida. Is there a bell on that old dresser, there?” the male voice replied. “Ring it, why don’t you?”

“No need, no need.” They could hear Madge bustle in and begin tending to their varying needs. Yes, the heat had been turned down in Mr. Heavensbee’s room. There were no feathers on Ms. Cardew’s bed. Yes, the rooms were large enough to store the equipment. Yes, Madge could provide a vegetarian meal for dinner. No, vegan was not an option. Yes, the list of Cressida’s food allergies had arrived by email. Yes, she had free wifi. Yes, there were private bathrooms in each guest suite. No her towels were cotton, not bamboo.

Peeta rolled his eyes and Katniss laughed again. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay downtown?”

She imagined herself dissolving into tears in a sterile hotel room. “I’m positive.” Peeta smiled at her and raised his glass to sip his wine. “There’s no way we could drink wine and talk about penis paintings in a hotel lobby.”

Peeta was still choking when the rotund body that belonged to the booming voice in the entryway appeared in the doorway to the room. 

“Brilliant! Other guests.” His beefy hands collided in a swift clap and then he rubbed them together. “Plutarch Heavensbee. I’m the producer of Byways and Getaways for Capitol TV. We’re doing a segment on the town and the inn. But, don’t you worry. Your visit will not be disturbed.”

Peeta, now recovered, offered him an easy smile and stood, offering his hand. “Peeta Mellark, “ he said and gestured to Katniss. “My friend, Katniss Everdeen.” 

“A pleasure to meet you, “ Plutarch enthused. Katniss wished she could say the same. He had invaded her favourite space and now he was interrupting her Peeta time. “What brings you to the inn?”

“Just up for the weekend, “ he replied, and Katniss thought it odd that he didn't mention he had business in the area. 

“Exactly the demographic we are trying to reach with our show. I knew we were right about this place. Where do you hail from?”

“I'm the curator of PMG in the city. Katniss lives there too. She’s an environmental engineer." 

Katniss reached out her hand to shake Plutarch’s and it felt like she’d wrapped her fingers around a dead fish. Her father used to say that a man’s handshake told you all you needed to know about him. “It’s a pleasure, Katniss. Well, what do you think? Isn’t this the perfect spot for a romantic getaway?” 

“I suppose,” Katniss conceded, though she found it hard to imagine staying here without tragedy looming over her head. “I’m from Panem, actually, so I’m just here to see my family.”

“No reason why the two of you can’t mix family obligations with a little romance, especially in a setting like this one,” said Plutarch with a laugh before turning to Peeta. 

As Plutarch and Peeta continued with their social niceties -- it turned out Plutarch had heard of Peeta’s gallery and knew Effie -- Katniss pondered why her path had never crossed Peeta’s until they had met here. They both lived in the same city. They were about the same age. But it was a huge city, and she wasn’t much for the nightlife, so maybe it wasn’t such a surprise after all. But even now that they’d met, they didn’t see each other between visits to the Inn.l They exchanged the odd text, but they never met for lunch or grabbed a quick drink after work. She’d never questioned it before, but now she wondered why that was, and whether that would change if she were no longer coming to the Inn each weekend. What if it didn’t? Would another female guest take her place? The idea clawed at her.

“Dinner is served,” called Madge from the doorway. 

As they passed under the chandelier in the foyer to the dining room across the hall, Peeta tucked Katniss’s hand under his arm. She was surprised to discover his bicep was rock hard beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. She chanced a glance up at him and found his eyes full of concern. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, of course not.” 

The thumb of his free hand stroked over her knuckles. “I wasn’t sure. You seemed so distant in the other room.”

“It’s not you, Peeta. I’ve just… Got a lot on my mind.” He nodded in understanding, but did not release her hand. That was fine with Katniss. His gentle strength was exactly what she needed. 

In the dining room, the lights had been dimmed and the large table where they usually supped with Madge was already filled with the television crew. Katniss spotted Plutarch settling in beside a dark-haired woman whose face powder gave the apples of her cheeks a silver glow. Across the table from him was a man with a red-tinged beard and another willowy woman whose hair was shaved on one side of her head. 

Madge pointed them to a table for two she’d set up near the windows. “I thought you two might enjoy some privacy.” Peeta gave her a grateful smile and he led the way to the more intimate setting, where the flickering of the candle was reflected in the glasses between their places and glimmered in the polished silver that lay on the tablecloth. When Katniss reached her chair, Peeta quickly pulled it out for her and slid her into place. Madge arrived tableside and poured another rich red, wine into fresh glasses. 

“This meal has to be perfect,” she whispered to them, her back to the camera crew. 

“It will be, Madge,” Katniss soothed. “All your meals are perfect. They’ll love it.”

“Let’s hope so,” her friend sighed, and outlined the evening’s dining choices: a braised lamb shank in a red wine sauce and served with rosemary garlic mashed potatoes or eggplant parmesan with arugula salad.

Peeta grinned at Katniss. “I know what you’re going to choose.”

“The lamb,” they said in unison.

“For you as well, Peeta?” Madge asked. He nodded and their hostess pasted a smile on her lips. “Okay then, wish me luck.” She turned back to the crowd at the table to take their orders.

“I guess you know what a carnivore I am by now,” Katniss teased after Madge left. 

“You told me a few months ago that lamb is your favourite.”

“I did?”

“Sure, one night Madge served a gorgeous Beef Wellington and you said that you enjoyed it but that lamb was your favourite.”

Katniss remembered that night -- the flakey crust wrapped over the succulent steak, the rich aroma of the wine. Madge had dimmed the chandelier over the dining room table and they’d talked for hours. Peeta had told them all about the hours he’d spent on a beach in the south of Spain, painting the sunset over the Mediterranean Sea, frantically mixing his paints to achieve exactly the right shade of orange. His eyes were as blue as the water that night and Katniss has never looked a a sunset the same way since. 

“I can’t believe you retained a little detail like that,” she said.

Madge arrived with their meals and the savoury aroma curled tantalizingly toward her. 

Peeta tugged his napkin from under his cutlery and laid it in his lap. “I remember everything about you, Katniss.” He cleared his throat and looked back up at her. “So, how were things today?”

She fiddled with the stem of her wine goblet before lifting it to take a healthy swallow. “Rough, as usual.” Rougher than usual, really, but she’d promised herself she wouldn’t think about that yet. “Dad just lies there, fading to nothing. Prim takes Mom with her every day when she goes to work at the hospital. She drops Mom off in his room, works a 12-hour shift, then picks her up in his room when it’s time to go home. Mom doesn’t leave his side, except to go to the bathroom.”

“She’s certainly devoted.”

“She is, but it’s more than that, Peeta. It’s like she can’t function without him. Dad’s car accident was four months ago, and she’s barely said a word since it happened. When she’s not at the hospital, she’s sleeping.”

Katniss adored her father and she’d missed him every day since he’d lost control of his truck on that icy road last winter. But it was her mother’s desertion that hurt the most. Her father might have been alone in his vehicle, but she and her sister had lost both of their parents that night. 

And since Katniss lived and worked in Capitol City, poor Prim was bearing the day-to-day stress of caring for both of their parents. It was Prim who’d called Katniss to say the doctors had decided their mother lacked the competency to make decisions about their father’s care. Prim had closed up their parent’s house and moved Mom into her place. Prim made sure Mom got out of bed, ate, washed herself and went back to bed. Prim dealt with the myriad of decisions that had to be made for both of their parents every day. All Katniss had to do was show up on Saturday morning, take their mother to the hospital and spend the day watching their father waste away while a respirator and a feeding tube kept his body alive and her mother desperately clung to the hope he’d wake up. When the sun began to set, she kissed her father’s cheek, took Mom back to Prim’s house and put her to bed.   

Every second of every minute that she sat in that ass-numbing visitor’s chair beside her father’s bed, Katniss wished she could be somewhere - anywhere - else; to run to her car, drive back to the city and never return. Only the bone-crushing guilt that her baby sister was dealing with this fiasco on her own had her packing her car every Saturday morning for the 60-mile drive north to Panem. 

Well, that, and the man sitting on the other side of the table, whose smile lit up every room in her heart. He smiled at her sympathetically.

“I’d like to say I understand what you’re going through, Katniss, but my father’s death was so sudden, it can’t compare. Just know that I haven’t forgotten what that felt like. I understand what it means to lose someone so important to you.” His hand covered hers, and then his thumb stroked over her knuckles. “I’m here for you, Katniss, whatever you need. I hope you know that.” 

His kindness made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. What did she ever do to deserve a friend like him? “Thank you, I-”

“Look at that!” Plutarch’s voice boomed from the other table. “Pollux go get your camera. Do you see it Cressida? They’re perfect!”

Katniss turned her head towards the other table where Plutarch was grinning like someone who’d found the prize at the bottom of the cereal box. The woman across from him was considering them carefully, the long, platinum locks on the unshaved part of her head falling over her left shoulder. Finally, she nodded. “Yes, you’re right. They’re perfect. And the setting is just right.”

“Well, you two. How about it?” Plutarch rose from the table and loomed over them. “Want to be on our show?”

Peeta was the first to recover. “We’re not-, I mean…”

“Professional actors. I know,” Plutarch said. “That’s what makes you so right for this. Your chemistry is palpable. It was slapping me in the face, even all the way over there.” 

_ It was? _ Her attempts to process that revelation were interrupted by the thumps and rattles of the cameraman, Pollux, who came back into the room, a television camera hoisted on his shoulder. 

She was already working up an impressive no speech when Cressida spoke up. “You don’t have to of course,” she demurred from the other table, “But don’t you want to help your friend? Footage of an actual couple enjoying the inn is so much more effective than shots of charming but empty rooms.”

One look at Madge’s pleading face and Katniss’s protests crumbled. Three minutes on camera wasn’t going to kill her. When she peeked over at Peeta, he was wavering too. But she knew he wouldn’t agree, not without her.

“Alright, fine,” she acquiesced. Peeta gave a swift nod and Plutarch threw his hands up in joy. He might as well have won the lottery. Before long, Cressida -- who apparently was the show’s director -- had Pollux in position for a long shot.

“I want you to start wide,” she instructed Pollux, “And bring it in slowly on the two of them while they continue their dinner. Pollux nodded and got into position. She turned to Peeta, “And I want you to go back to looking at her as though she’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. And you,” she laid a hand on Katniss’s shoulder that Katniss had to force herself not to shrug off, “You just keep looking up at him like he hung the moon.”

It was impossibly awkward, trying to eat while the camera was rolling. She was conscious of every chew of the lamb, every bite of her potatoes. They tasted like ash in her mouth because she couldn’t relax. Meanwhile Cressida’s words kept rolling through her head. Since when did Peeta look at her like she was beautiful? How ridiculous. Just the implication that he had feelings for her had even turned the tips of his ears pink. But now, that the camera was rolling he was putting on a masterful performance, smiling sweetly at her in the candlelight. 

Three minutes turned out to be twenty. Each time Pollux finished the shot, Cressida reviewed it, picked it apart and had him shoot it again. Once Cressida was happy with the long shot, she had Pollux pan from one of them to the other. Then Peeta gazing at her. Then her doing her best not to scowl at him. She also had him shoot their joined hands before pulling out to their dinner. 

She heaved a sigh of relief when Pollux finally turned off the camera, but by then her meal was cold. Madge collected their plates with a smile, and whispered that she was so grateful for their help that she was comping their room for the night.

At least they didn’t bother her while she was enjoying her tiramisu. Plutarch’s plan that Peeta feed her a bite from his fork, was thwarted by Madge who suggested they all have a break and some dessert. 

Katniss had never been so relieved to be finished with a meal. She was already making her escape to the staircase when Plutarch started wheedling for just a “few more shots” in the drawing room. Before long, she found herself nestled hip-to-hip with Peeta in front of a roaring fire, Katniss tucked beneath his arm and their long-stemmed wine glasses clutched in their fingertips while the camera rolled.

“Cut!” At Cressida’s call, Pollux put the camera down and rolled his shoulders. Cressida was oblivious to his discomfort. “Alright, Katniss,” she coached. “This time when Pollux starts recording, I want you both to be staring into the fire. Then on the count of five I want you to lay your head on Peeta’s chest. Got it?”

She bit her lip. It was one thing to hold hands over dinner or sit in front of the fire. This next shot felt terribly romantic and it seemed wrong to continue to pretend like this. Peeta picked up on her uncertainty and was arguing that they were tired when she realized she might never again have a chance at a moment like this with Peeta. Even if Prim changed her mind about tomorrow and she came back the following weekend, she had no idea whether Peeta felt anything for her but friendship. Suddenly, she found her tongue.

“It’s fine, Peeta. Don’t worry about me.” His blue eyes were full of concern when they peered down at her. 

“You sure?” 

She nodded, wondering if it were possible to drown in someone’s gaze. “Yeah.” The corner of his mouth quirked in a slight smile and she imagined pressing her lips to the spot.

Plutarch made a pleased noise. “Oh that’s perfect. That’s exactly what we want, Isn’t it Cressida?”

“We’ll do it all in one take,” the director agreed. “Fulvia, take Peeta’s glass, please.” 

“I’m the host, not a gofer,” the other woman huffed as she snatched Peeta’s glass away. 

“You’re not a coat rack either, yet you insist on standing there and doing nothing,” Cressida snapped. 

Katniss decided she rather liked Cressida, who turned back to her, her irritation buried under her professional veneer. “As I said, you two, we’ll do one last take and then we’ll set you free. Katniss, I want you to do exactly as I said. Gaze at the fire, count to five, lay your head on his chest. Then Peeta, with your free hand, reach up to stroke her cheek. And if you two stare at each other with the same intensity that you just had, the Mockingjay Inn will be full for the next 10 years.”

“Can we please just do this?” Peeta sounded pained. 

“Rolling,” Cressida called. The room was silent except for the crackle of the fire. Katniss watched it dance in the hearth before relaxing against Peeta and laying her cheek against the soft cotton of his shirt. She could hear his heart racing beneath her ear. She closed her eyes, fixing the moment in her mind forever. The spice of his cologne, the natural musk of his skin. The firmness of his chest and the warmth of his body. Even if it wasn’t real, she wanted to be able to recall this memory whenever her thoughts strayed to him. When his fingers grazed her cheek, Katniss opened her eyes and found his to be staring back at her, filled with fondness and, dare she say, longing?

“Cut!” Cressida said and Peeta leapt to his feet, reaching out to tug Katniss off the floor.

“Well, it’s been fun, folks, but Katniss and I are calling it a night,” he said, never letting go of her hand. Cheerfully waving good night, but allowing no further discussion, he ushered her from the room. His jaw was tense, she noted, and a current was passing between them that was almost palpable in the air. When he glanced toward her, she could see something brewing in his expression that she’d never noticed before. 

When they reached the top of the stairs, Peeta opened the door to their room and allowed her to pass through before him. It snicked closed and they were left in the cozy space where it seemed Madge had snuck in to light the fireplace and turn down their beds. Lamps glowed on the end tables on each side the big four-poster. 

“Katniss,” Peeta said, in a voice just barely above a whisper. Her eyes flew to where he stood by the door, watching her. She was reminded briefly of a stormy sea and then she found herself surrounded by him, wrapped snugly in his arms as his lips came crashing down upon hers. At once, they gave and demanded. Took and soothed. He bit her lip, begged forgiveness with a swipe of his tongue and then parted her bruised lips to slip inside.  _ Here _ , her body sang as her tongue slid against his.  _ Here _ is what you’ve been looking for. What you’ve been missing. The one you need.

When they were both gasping for air, he pulled back, framing her face with his hands, feathering kisses across her cheeks, the tip of her nose, her forehead before finally lowering his brow to hers. She locked her hands around his wrists.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I’ve been waiting so long to tell you how I feel. You’ve been dealing with so much. You don’t need demands from me too, but the way you were looking at me down there, Katniss.... I just- I couldn’t hold back anymore. You mean so much to me and if you don’t want this, I’ll try to under-”

She had to shut him up. Had to. So she rose up on her toes and kissed him with all that she’d been holding inside for him; weaving her fingers into his hair as she’d ached to do, revelling in the sharp scrape of his stubble, committing the taste of his lips to her memory. How could they both have been feeling this way and not known the attraction was mutual?

“It’s not just you,” she assured him when they broke apart again. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m not very good with words, especially when it’s important.”

A groan sounded low in his throat and his hands clutched at her hips, pulling her close. Heat flashed between them and she stroked the iron of his biceps and wrapped her arms around his middle before clutching the back of his shirt in her fists. Her own shirt rose slightly and his thumb stroked the bare skin that appeared just above the waistline of her jeans. Goosebumps prickled on her flesh and the sharp edge of need sliced through her again. A soft mewl escaped her lips and his hands slipped from her hips to stroke the soft curve of her bottom. His lips roamed her jaw then moved to suckle the sensitive spot on her neck just below her ear. 

It felt indescribably good, like she’d found a part of herself that she hadn’t known was missing. She craved him, each touch drawing her ever deeper under his spell. Her panties were soaked and her mind was whirling. She wanted him over her, inside her, wrapped in the knot of her legs while he took her flying. 

Was it wrong to give into this now? When they’d only just confessed their feelings? When she knew tomorrow she’d be kissing her father good-bye?

Peeta lifted his head to stare down at her. His lips were swollen from her kisses; his blonde locks tousled. His eyes burned with desire, but his gentleness and innate decency remained. Her hands slid into his hair, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

He leaned down to nuzzle her nose. “Everything alright?”

“Prim told the doctors they could unplug our dad tomorrow.”

With a curse, Peeta released her and then led her over to the bed. They toed off their shoes and curled up under the covers where he drew her into his arms. She lay there quietly, her body still thrumming with need, but her mind at peace.

”Katniss, I’m so sorry. I know you were hoping he’d get better.” 

“I was for awhile,” she admitted on a shaky breath, “But now, I just want him to be able to hold on to his dignity. He would hate this, Peeta. More than anything. Sometimes I think he won’t wake up because he’d never want to face this.”

He pressed a kiss to her brow. “I’m sorry. I should never have started all that before. If I’d known what you were going through-”

She covered her mouth with her hand. “Stop. Please don’t be sorry for that. I can’t handle it if you say sorry for wanting me.”

He snorted and she wondered if he’d picked up that habit from her. “Can’t be sorry for that,” he answered. “Not when it came to me as naturally as breathing.”

She gave her head a brief shake and raised up on her elbow. “What?”

“You have no idea, the effect you have on me.” At her dismissive noise, he flipped her over, settling his body on hers and pinning her wrists above her head. “It’s true,” he insisted. “I walked into the drawing room that first night we met. You were curled up on the couch, staring into the fire, your braid falling over your shoulder. You turned to look at me and my mind just blanked. And then I knew.”

She felt like she should scoff and push him away, but another part -- the part that remembered their first meeting like a favourite movie -- hungered to hear the rest. “Knew what?” she croaked.

“That you were perfect for me. I just needed time to convince you that I was perfect for you too.”

No convincing had been necessary. Not really. Not when she spent Monday to Friday thinking about when she would see him again. “I guess you’re lucky that work kept bringing you up here, then.”

He chuckled, pushing her hands higher over her head, his face so close she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheeks. “Is that what you think? That I’ve been coming up here week after week, for  _ work _ ? Do you really think there are that many art connoisseurs in this little town?”

“Well, why else would you-”

Peeta rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Katniss.” He clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Why do you think?”

_ Oh.  _ “But you never called, hardly ever texted me during the week. How was I to know if you never gave me a sign?” 

He blushed a little. “There were plenty of signs. I guess I was waiting for one from you.” 

She spread her legs until he was nestled between her thighs. Locking her feet under his knees, she brought her lips to his. “How’s that for a sign?”

“I’ll take it,” he rasped, locking his fingers with hers. She took his bottom lip between her own and clung, nipping lightly. He let go of her hands to frame her face with his own and buried his fingers in her raven tresses. Free to wander, hers fell to his shoulders, admiring their breadth before slipping between the two of them to loosen the buttons of his shirt. Dissatisfied with the amount of skin she could reach, Katniss tugged impatiently at the hem of his shirt. 

“Off,” she muttered as she laved her way up his neck to take his earlobe in her teeth. “Now,” she whispered in his ear. 

“Bossy,” he complained from inside the shirt as he rose on his haunches to pull it over his head, too eager to be free of it to finish with the buttons. He tossed it aside and at last she could glory in his sculpted chest, his pectoral muscles dusted with blonde hair that narrowed into a trail that disappeared below the waistband of his jeans. She scratched her nails along his chest until they reached the button of his jeans. When she flipped it open, and reached for his fly, Peeta’s hand covered hers. 

“You first,” he insisted. “I need to see you.” he swallowed. “Take your shirt off, Katniss.”

The heat of her blush raced up her neck until even her ears burned. “I’m nothing special,” she protested. “Let me touch you.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been having this dream about you. Please.” She huffed. Her fingers wrapped around the hem off her sweater so that she could whip it off, when he stilled her hand again. 

“Slowly.”

Obediently, she slowed her hand. Her grey eyes locked on his face, watching his expression as she exposed the flat of her belly, the olive skin coming into view inch by inch. His eyes were dark, like bottomless pools. His tongue flicked out across his bottom lip, still swollen from her attentions. The sweater climbed over her rib cage and up her breasts before finally slipping over her head and falling into a heap on the floor.  

She lay before him, her slight breasts still encased in the white cotton bra she’d donned that morning. His eyes closed and he exhaled softly, then opened them and smiled. “You are so beautiful.” 

Her heart flipped over in her chest and she knew it was lost to him, that her feelings shone from every pore. He flicked open her jeans, lowered the zipper and lowered his lips to the soft flesh just above the hem of her panties. His mouth slid higher and her core burned as he laved a trail along her belly button, dipping in briefly before travelling up her sternum to the valley between her breasts. His lips caressed one soft mound and then the other. Her fingers wove themselves back into his hair, clutching him to her, and he moaned softly when she gave it a little tug to bring his mouth back to hers. He tasted of wine and she drank him in, revelling in the pleasure of his skin against hers. Her hips rose from the bed, sending a spike of heat through her as her most sensitive place ground against his erection. She moaned and arched her back as she moved against him again. 

Peeta’s hand slipped beneath her to remove her bra, unclasping it, and then sliding it from her shoulders to toss it to the floor.  He closed his hand over one before drawing the soft brown tip of the other into his mouth, the tension continuing to build ever higher between her legs. His name fell from her lips and he raised his head to give her a naughty grin and then lowered his mouth to her opposite breast. With his other hand, he rolled the nipple he’d already teased into a taut peak between his fingers. 

Her hands ran down his back and slipped beneath his shorts, admiring the shape of his ass before driving him even harder against the apex of her thighs. 

They grunted in unison, and Peeta raised his head, his eyes dancing as they laughed. He pecked her lips and then slid off of her. They lay side by side, their arms draped loosely over each other’s sides. The next smile he offered her was sheepish.

“I didn’t exactly come prepared for this,” he admitted, “If you want to take this farther, that is.” 

Katniss bit her lip as she considered the contents of her bag. “Me either.” She considered a moment. “We’ll just have to be creative,” she decided and sat up, smiling to herself when she noticed his eyes following her breasts. 

She climbed from the bed and shimmied out of her jeans. “C’mon Mellark, match me?” 

By the time she climbed back up on the bed, Peeta’s jeans were hitting the floor, his boxer briefs not far behind them. Still on all fours, her eyes roamed his body, the broad chest, the tight abs, the happy trail pointing the way to a long, hard cock. She licked her lips, thinking about what she had in mind and it twitched slightly. Amused, her eyes flew back to Peeta’s face. He shrugged. “It’s just saying hello. Come closer, please. I want to touch you.”

She crawled to him, enjoying the way his eyes followed the sway of her hips, then rose up on her knees before him. His hand slid up her inner thigh, trailing up until he brushed against her lower lips before sliding down again to her knee. He rose up on his elbow, placing a kiss against her hip. 

“So lovely,” he murmured against her skin. “I’m going to paint you, someday, if you let me.” His lips travelled just above the dark triangle between her legs while his fingers crept up her thigh again. “Your hair unbound, falling down your back in the sunshine. Your skin practically glows, Katniss. I can make all kinds of colours in my paint box, but I could spend all day trying to get your skin just right.” This time, his fingers caressed her slit slowly, drawing her breath from her in sharp pants, before delving deeper in search of the swollen bud seeking his attention. Her head fell back and a high pitched moan fell from her lips when he began to stroke it.

“Peeta,” she gasped, riding his hand.

“Fuck, Katniss. You’re so wet.”

Her hands slid slowly up her body, cupping her breasts and then rolling her nipples between her fingers. The pleasure shot straight to her clit and she groaned again.

“Can I taste you,” he asked, and she nodded. 

“But I want to touch you too. Lie back.” She turned in the bed, straddling Peeta’s body so that his cock was perfectly positioned for her mouth. She heard him curse again, then felt him lower her into position over his face. He licked her slowly, sending another jolt of pleasure through her body. Pleasure she needed to share. 

Her tongue stroked down his cock, from the tip all the way to the root near his balls. The strangled groan that fell from his lips vibrated through her. She palmed his balls in one hand and then slowly began to stroke him with the other. 

Peeta’s ministrations grew more passionate. He sucked her clit into his mouth, working it furiously with his tongue. 

Katniss licked her lips, then took him in, sliding her tongue around the head and then deep into her mouth. Another groan sounded from behind her and she took him deeper, moving her hand in concert with her mouth. His hips rose and fell, even as he pulled her ever deeper against his face, his sounds of pleasure causing hers to spiral ever higher.

She drew back, licking the head of his penis before plunging down upon him again. His mouth worked her furiously, whimpers of pleasure bursting from her, when suddenly she felt her orgasm overtake her. She bucked against his face as he held her in place, drinking her up. She sucked him desperately, opening her throat and with one last groan, he erupted, and she swallowed each drop as it slid down.

They lay silently for a few minutes, while their hearts raced, Peeta kissing her thigh periodically. When she could avoid it no longer, she climbed off him. When she turned around, she could tell he was as stunned as she.

“I guess I should go to bed,” he said softly.

She lay her hand on his chest. “No, stay with me.”

He smiled at her and held out his arms. She thought he whispered something into her hair as she snuggled down beside him.

Peeta sat up to pull the covers back over them. They each flicked off a light and before long she was once again wrapped up in his arms. They lay quietly in the dark as she listened to the comforting thud of his heartbeat just below her ear. She was just drifting off to sleep when she heard his voice again.

“I’d like to go with you tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

She desperately wanted to say yes, which made her think she should probably refuse. “It will be awful, Peeta. I don’t want to put you through that.”

“Tomorrow, your mother will be there for your father, and your sister will be there for both of them. You’ll be taking care of Prim. Someone should be there to comfort you, Katniss. And that should be your boyfriend.”

Her lips twitched upwards in the dark. “Is that what you are? My boyfriend?”

“If you’ll allow it.”

There was a brief silence before she answered. “I’ll allow it.” 

His arms held her just that much tighter. “And tomorrow?”

“I’ll allow that too.”


End file.
